Perfectus
by TRikiD
Summary: "Of course, given that you cannot ask the questions, I should automatically answer them for you, yes? How foolish of me not to think ahead—anyway, the reason you're here now is because I need to finish the final part of my project, which you play a vital part in," Joey explained, "You see, in order for my career to take off, I need a star attraction..."


Perfectus

The room was dark, dusty, and reeked of something…metallic; he couldn't figure out what it was or even where he was…or how was even here to begin with. One moment, he was insentient, just thoughts in the minds of creative artists, and then the next, he was alive; breathing, feeling, thinking, he suddenly possessed everything that falls under the category of "living."

But how? Why? What was the purpose of bringing him to life? What was Joey planning…how did he know that name? How did he know that that name not only belonged to a male human being, but also to the very man who created him?

These questions continued to flood his mind when he began to gather feeling in his limbs, specifically his arms; they were immobile. He couldn't make out what was clasping tightly onto his wrists, but with some pulling, he heard the metal clanking of chains. He was imprisoned. It seemed that only his arms were held upward on opposite sides of his head, though, for he was able to rise from his knees, albeit shakily, and bring himself to his feet; his boots thumped lightly on the creaky wooden floor, but he heard a faint splash with every step he took. Was he standing in water? No, water didn't smell, let alone like metal.

Was he standing in-?

As if on cue, a single light flipped on with a loud buzz directly above, casting a peculiar curved shadow that was painted on the floor when he tilted his head forward. Only, the wooden floor wasn't brown and tasteless; instead it was covered in…something black and wet. At least now, he knew it wasn't blood…hopefully.

He glanced up, hoping to find an object or person of reason to give him an answer, any answer, really. He wanted—no—needed to find out why this was happening, why he was here, and where "here" was.

The sound of something, seemingly steps of someone or something with a hefty build, sloshing through the shallow black liquid could be heard next; whoever or whatever it was, they didn't step close enough to be exposed to the light, but he was quickly able to pick up the stench of booze and tobacco.

"I bet you're wondering what you're doing here," the mystery figure in the void of shadows spoke, his voice was rugged and etched with age and fatigue.

He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out; there wasn't a single twinge of vibration in his vocal chords because he didn't have any; there were no chords, no esophagus, and no tongue. Just teeth and jaws. The guest seemed to catch onto this.

"Oh, right. My apologies. I didn't have the money to give you a voice—it seems that _no_ animation studio can afford voice casting and recording unless you work for that big shot, egotistical, racist Walt Disney!" The rage in the stranger's tone became blatantly obvious as he continued, even to the point where his voice echoed off of the walls.

The stranger cleared his throat, "But I digress—my name is Drew—Joey Drew. And I've given you life for one reason and one reason alone: You are my greatest and most important creation, the heart and soul of this establishment. You are the reason I've spent most of my life avoiding a healthy amount of social interaction, the reason I have stayed up until daybreak on countless nights, the reason I will become a legend in entertainment history."

He quirked a brow in curiosity when Joey paused.

"You _are_ the _Lil' Darlin' Demon_ that everyone has come to love, after all." Despite the darkness, it was obvious that Joey put air quotes around "Lil' Darlin' Demon."

He took another look up at his shackled hands, which he noticed were wearing the cliché yet honorary white gloves that all cartoons of this day and age wore; he stared at his limbs in confusion, though. If he was a beloved icon like Joey said, then why is he imprisoned? What did he do wrong?

"Of course, given that you cannot ask the questions, I should automatically answer them for you, yes? How foolish of me not to think ahead—anyway, the reason you're here now is because I need to finish the final part of my project, which you play a vital part in," Joey explained, "You see, in order for my career to take off, I need a star attraction, but I can only gain this attraction once I give the people something new, something different—something unworldly."

He shook his head in fear and disbelief.

"I know what you're trying to say. Whatever it is, you don't want to be a part of it. Well, I'm sorry, but there is no other way. Besides, just think of all of the love and glory you will receive. You'll become a legend, you and I both! Don't you want that?!"

He rapidly shook his head no.

Joey sighed in great disappointment, "I thought it might come to this, which is why I put you in restraints. Whether or not you would've agreed, this wasn't going to end nicely—but it'll all be worth it. You'll see. Now, bring out the Initiator!"

Another set of steps came out to gently slosh through the inky substance soon after, and this time, a tall and lanky man wearing overalls just barely came into the light; he was far too tall for him to see his face, but he could see the same black liquid that stained his clothes and pasty skin. In the tall man's hand was a large syringe, and inside of its glass tube was…an odd glowing liquid, yet it was also somehow pitch black like the ink on the floor. The balance between the darkness and the light shifted constantly in the syringe.

"The strange liquid you see inside that there syringe is what I call the 'Initiator'. I'll be honest, I have no idea what it's made of or where it came from, but it just showed up neatly wrapped like a gift on my desk one day. There was a note on it that said, 'I love your work. Use this to help everyone hear you'. At first, I was skeptical and put it away for later, but then, one of my other creations had a little accident. She was a dear friend of mine and I felt terrible—but then I noticed the significant changes that followed her incident. I got over my guilt and became excited because I realized I could test it on all my other creations—and that's when I thought of you."

He flinched and tried to yelp when the tall man suddenly grabbed his arm with a vice grip, and yanked him closer while preparing the Initiator to enter his shoulder.

"Be careful now, Sammy. You know he's quite the fighter," Joey warned the tall guest.

"You really think a little thing like this could hurt me?" Sammy chuckled darkly, his voice was meek and haggard.

"No—not yet anyway. Just remember to clear out of there as fast as possible."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Boss."

With that, Sammy tightened his hold on his arm and brought the needle closer to his ebony skin. He struggled and kicked his feet to get away, splashing ink up onto Sammy's overalls.

"I wouldn't fight it if I were you. It's inevitable," Sammy whispered snidely, and hastily plunged the needle into his arm without warning.

He couldn't make a sound, but his mouth opened wide like a snake and his eyes popped with tears flooding them; he balled his hands into fists, chafing his wrists horribly against the shackles. But try as he might, he couldn't escape Sammy or the Initiator draining into his blood stream. Did he even have a bloodstream?

He didn't have time to dwell on that thought, as he felt something powerful begin to pulse and grow within. Sammy took the sudden thrashing and foaming at the mouth as his cue to leave, so he removed the needle and nonchalantly disappeared into the darkness. But the pain continued to grow stronger to the point where he could feel his insides twist, his bones crunch, and his skin stretch; with each destruction of a piece of his original form, a soft growl emitted from his throat, a sound he could never make until now, not even when he was just a drawing on paper.

The shackles became smaller and smaller, so much so that they easily shattered to pieces when his wrists suddenly grew too big. He looked down at his now free limbs, and stared in wonder when he saw that his once stubby and adorable hands grew into vicious claws that tore through their gloves. His vision blurred as the ground seemed to be growing farther away…or was he becoming taller?

Before he could take in what really happened, his eyes were submerged in something black and gelatinous that blanketed the upper half of his face, leaving him completely blind. He felt his shoulders bulge and twitch, and then felt top heavy all of a sudden. He expected to hear the clack of his claws hit the wood floor, but it never came; instead, the inky liquid on the floor was thicker and pooled around him. He wasn't sure if he even had a heart, but he couldn't help but hear a rhythmic and thunderous thumping.

And then there was this new feeling, something he couldn't explain…it was an urge to chase, hunt, tear anything that dared to breathe to shreds, to make them suffer in the darkest pits of Hell. And as far as he could tell, the pain was nothing short of that. And neither was the sudden rush of adrenaline.

He may not have been able to see, but it's like he had a sixth sense that allowed him to detect any sudden movement. And that movement was coming from something straight ahead. He involuntarily lunged forward to pursue the being before him, but was abruptly stopped by a glass wall. He pounded fiercely against the window, but it wouldn't even crack.

No…no, Joey was right there, he could feel it! Why would he turn him into this monstrosity if he couldn't satisfy his animalistic urges?! He couldn't take it anymore, and leapt all around the room to find a way out.

"N-no…no, please! Don't put me in there with him, he'll kill me!" There was a shriek of terror, but it was a whole new voice. The owner of the voice was then thrown into the room with a loud splash, followed by the slam of a door.

He growled threateningly, unable to control himself when he suddenly craved meat.

"No, please! I have a family! A wife, and three-!" The new guest could only get part of his sentence out when he pounced and pinned him to the ground, tearing into his chest and neck; ink mixed with blood as he tore through his flesh like rice paper, chomped down on his bones like graham crackers, and pulled out his intestines between his powerful jaws like pasta.

Soon, there was nothing but the sound of flesh and bone being devoured, even though he couldn't taste anything. What remained of the poor soul's body were now bits and pieces scattered amongst the pool of ink. He reared his head back and made another noise he couldn't possibly have accomplished in his original form; a thunderous roar boomed from his gaping, blood-stained mouth as he sprinted towards Joey, who had been standing in the same spot the whole time. But the unbreakable glass wall blocked him once more, so he let out another roar in aggravation. He heard Joey chuckle at his futile attempts to escape.

"You're quite the energetic rascal, aren't you? See, this is why I plan ahead. There was obviously a tremendous amount of danger that would come with this test, any sane person can see that." Joey paused awkwardly again, and the sound of him leaving could be heard next.

"Don't worry, Bendy, you'll soon be free. I need to invite another friend of mine over to test you out. _Then_ you can play all you like."

* * *

 **Well, holy hell...I actually started writing this last night and finished it this morning. I think that's the fastest I've ever written anything in my life. If you know me(I'm looking at you, WerlynTellsNoTales), that's normally impossible.**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


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